I am a droplet. Just a small droplet.

One day, I fell into a lake.
The water didn’t crave my presence,
but there I was—
falling.

With a soft smack, I broke the silence.
I shivered the surface and I started to send ripples outward.

Tiny waves fanned out toward the shore.
The lake barely remembered I had landed—
but I kept stretching and growing.
One ring, two rings, three rings…
Each of them was a promise slipping from the center,
making its way in a widening circle that brushed the skin of the water.

How many of these rings have I cast since the day I landed?

I have no idea.

Sometimes I think,
maybe the fish don’t care,
maybe the reeds just nod, in their indifferent sway,
and maybe the water laughs at my ambition.
Because who am I to think I can make any difference in this lake?

But isn’t it something—
how even a single droplet interrupted the calm?
How it pressed its will into the water and bent the shape of its surroundings?
How it insisted:
Look, I’m here, and the world has changed, however small.

Call it hubris.
Call it naive.

But here I am—
just a glistening speck, dreaming of shores I’ll never touch.
Hoping to be felt.
Knowing I might be lost, soaked up, swallowed,
lost to the lake before anyone even sees the last of my rings.

Because one day, my final ring will fade.
And the lake will still be there,
as if I had never fallen.

Still, I choose to believe—
that somewhere, I will make a lily quiver.
That somewhere, the landing of a dragonfly will shift because of me.
That one of my ripples will carry a story farther than I’ll ever know.

And maybe that’s all there is after all—
a brief moment
when stillness breaks
for a droplet
that dares to be
more than just wet.

Do you know
how butterflies come to life?
It’s more frightening
than you might think.

Born crawling
a caterpillar,
close to the ground
naïve to the sky
simply existing,
tasting the world
leaf by leaf.

And then
it begins.
A hush inside the body,
a quiet undoing.
Behaviors shift,
instincts sharpen,
the soul sketches its wings in secret.
The old self unravels.

Did you know
that little caterpillar
melts into goo?
Not a creature in waiting
just formless, floating cells.
And from that
a butterfly emerges,
grown entirely
from what was already there.

I’ve been stuck in that goo
the nowhere between
trauma and metamorphosis,
neither alive nor lost,
just suspended.

But this summer
brought tears as ink,
and from the scribbled ache
came liberating wings
fragile but certain,
drawn from silence.

I've started flying.
But I still glance down
when I shouldn’t
afraid that my pride and joy
will be mistaken for arrogance.
Yet I’m proud
proud that I can love again.
Proud that flying
feels so familiar.

I like to land
booping noses of dogs
showing up beside strangers
on quiet benches.
To hear their voices
for the very first time
to sense the tremble
of their own becoming.
And when I look,
I see it:
a shimmer in their stillness,
a whisper in their pause.
The butterfly
still hidden in its goo.

And I hope
they’ll pass it on
this softness,
this seeing.

That ripple we call
the butterfly effect

There is nothing left to say. You declared with audacity how I was an impediment. I recollected how pitiable I was, desperate for nothing, because it wouldn't, it didn't alter anything. So enamored was I with you, I relinquished half of myself to appease you. The superior parts of me I surrendered willingly to you, as I permitted myself to become illicitly compliant in the scheme of deceiving myself. I believed the half-truths, the falsehoods, and the empty promises. You made a wreck of me, exposing me to such debasingly immoral things. I thought I could trust you after everything we shared. I never knew such passions; I never felt such care. How was I to know none of it was genuine?

Time has elapsed, and I have healed. I have moved on, not as swiftly as you, and it didn't take another to get me here. So, the emails, the texts, the contacting my family needs to cease. It doesn't matter if I'm single. What mattered was that I had so much fight in me to save us I was a willing participant, my own collateral damage when it came to you. I allowed so much and pleaded for so long for you to see me, to love me as I did you. Like you once used to. The fool I played, for it wasn't love at all. It wasn't even lust; it was mere 'usage.' I contorted myself to fit into your world. I reinvented myself to a lower self in place of the worldly woman I once was. I infringed on my intellect and played dumb, forever the fool, all for you. And it still wasn't enough. You told me I was too strong, too independent, and so I diminished myself. My integrity be ******, I lowered my standards and discarded my boundaries to please you. All for what? For you to do exactly what I implored you not to do: to toy with me, to lie and deceive, to harm and torture, to manipulate and abuse. And even then, it wasn't enough. I was never enough.

No matter now. I have healed myself, and I have moved on. How wonderful it is to see I am nowhere near where I used to be, and the me I am today you'll never get close to. So, for all the attempts at contacting me and wanting to talk, I must let it be known I have nothing left to say!

Karma gets directed at those that they chose.
This is the simple technique that they use.

By supplying us with any dumb thing that we ask.
A crucial component, for completing their task.

For example; What about fruit with no seeds.
understanding that this is a blunder in deeds.

For this convenience, that we asked for, generations ago.
This wheel we call karma, will often turn slow.

The debt shall be paid in full, when it’s due.
See shortage of food as the world splits in two.

Knowing deep and truly, the rules to this game.
Accepting there’s darkness without looking for blame.

To all that are dealing with struggle and strife.
Everything comes from inside in the life.

The sun will soon shine, in a different sort of way.
Trifinity achieved on that very special day.

Denying the old ways, is what one must do.
Realizing your path and accepting the new.

Gnoshit, reco-gnosis,
makes one imagine I am, no, know I am
one, in the largest ever population of nobodies.

I am as anonymous as privacy needs to be, open source,
casting pearls to pearl eating entities, noticing

taking notice, marking time for recollection,
whiling away on missed perceptions correction duty.
We, the public entity,
did we ever have a republic
without slaves, as a we, did we become
the people who constituted the distribution of power,
to the people,
under authorized sanctified known terms?

On the border between all languages,
the gift of translation, we have
t'reason,
to trusted reasons why we keep war alive,
in season,
the bulls all wanna breed,
the biggest boasters become kings,
let Lyndon tell it, ladies. History records
the incident as sometime after 20 Aug 1968.

While we replay the audio from the show at Khai Vinh,

put the mark anywhere? think wonder the verb, if
ever once it all seemed much like now
the experience, live
at the *******
across the highway.

Not many had the exact same experience,
but the music is all still played in that order,
chance opening a vein unexplored limnal spaces.

Playlists with metadata dendrite meandering mods.

Did you say you once wrote a book a day, by golly,
did you think that you wrote with extreme
prejudice, or did you slide each phrase,
along the edge, to the hilt, each phaze,

phinally spinning luck elucifity, apologize
for lies I left believed, as certainly as turbulence
mastery leaves lads and lassie's breathless,
globally on TV, the most imagined sin,

connecting, carnal knowing with dis connected
what kind of master would forbid knowledge,

start there o man of god, make me believe you know,
while you know I got you at the grand jesuture,
for all to hear, as all believed the lie about us,
let all believe the truth,

Job was right, no immortal knows a mortal's ignorance
of patience's perfecting function, waiting seems sufferage.

Endure until the end, pretend you are attending a judgement.
And notice, the remembering use by the accused to account
for idle words, with penitent acknowledgment, I was beguiled.

That's it, we know, the side the enlightener entertains
contains all the luminaries of our culture's global echo intent
chabad chata hamartia, principle idea, wisdom's dominion,

at the point of first precept, no noise, a twist, to on.

Our signal through tomorrow, prepaid.

knowing full well
the pain it causes
and the knowledge
that it will only
make it worse
i still bite
and pick and pull
at that jagged edge
of my finger nail;
more often than not
the finger is left
bleeding and aches
for so long after

Cogito, ergo sum
But what do I think?
And what, pray tell,
What effect does this have
On my being?
If what I constitute
Is alone, based on action,
Based on thought
What can we say of man today?

in the cause for a
whipperwill the effect is
so so amazing

I fully believe in the butterfly effect.
Because when I see you,
I know somewhere else in the world,
the universe must balance out
your lovliness.

When you laugh,
I feel the breeze blow on a spring feild
and see a child
seeing the sunset for the first time.

When you smile,
Orange trees bloom
with white colored flowers
and a scent so sweet
the bees cannot resist it.

And when you look at me
with the face of an angel
and the emotion of a God,
I cannot help but see
your beauty
in everything.

there is cause effect
some causes are self ingrained
some effects painful